CHAPTER SEVEN:"The Contract"

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[SFX: PENTHOUSE. 9:47 PM. DOOR BEEP.]

Susan didn’t knock. She just appeared. iPad clutched to her chest like a shield. Behind her, Marcos. By the door. Always by the door.

“Mr. Knight said you’re awake,” Susan whispered. Like speaking too loud would detonate Adrian. “He said… he said you should read these.”

She set three folders on the glass coffee table. Black leather. Gold embossed. _K. Holdings Legal Dept._

I didn’t touch them. I was still on the couch. Still barefoot. Still wearing the same clothes from his office 8 hours ago. Prison uniform.

“What are they?” My voice was sandpaper.

“NDA.” Susan pointed. “Cohabitation agreement.” Point. “Prenatal care and conduct stipulations.” Point. “And…” She swallowed. “Custody framework. Post-birth.”

Post-birth. He was already dividing us.

“Open it,” Marcos said. First word he’d spoken to me.

I flipped the cohabitation agreement open. First page. Bold. 14-point font.

*1.1 PRIMARY RESIDENCE: The Mother will reside at 443 Central Park West, Penthouse A, for the duration of gestation. Departure from said residence without express written consent of The Father is a material breach.*

*1.4 VISITORS: No persons except those pre-approved by The Father may enter Primary Residence. This includes family members.*

I couldn’t see my mom. Clause 1.4.

*2.3 NUTRITION: All food and beverages consumed by The Mother must be prepared by vetted staff or pre-approved by Dr. Levinson. Outside food is strictly prohibited.*

He’d starve me before he let me eat a bodega sandwich.

*4.1 CONDUCT: The Mother will refrain from activities deemed stressful or hazardous to the fetus, including but not limited to: running, arguing, crying excessively, consuming media related to The Father…*

Crying excessively. He’d written _crying_ into a contract.

I flipped to the custody framework. Last page.

*6.2 FULL CUSTODY: In the event The Mother engages in conduct that endangers the heir, including attempted flight, substance abuse, or mental instability, full legal and physical custody shall transfer to The Father immediately upon birth. The Mother’s parental rights will be terminated.*

Terminate my rights. For running. For _crying_.

The paper shook in my hands. “I’m not signing this.”

[SFX: DOOR BEEP. FOOTSTEPS.]

“Good,” Adrian said.

He was back. Shirt sleeves still rolled up. Hair a mess like he’d been pulling it. He didn’t look at Susan. Didn’t look at Marcos. Only at me. At the papers.

“Because if you sign it while you’re scared, it’s coercion,” he said. “And I don’t lose on technicalities.”

He took the folders. All three. Dropped them in the fireplace. Lit a match.

Susan gasped. The $200/hour legal work went up in flames.

“You don’t need to sign anything, Beth.” Adrian watched the fire eat his threats. “You just need to stay.”

“Why?” I was shaking. “Why burn them if you’re just going to keep me anyway?”

He crouched in front of me. Same as before. Eye level. Trap level.

“Because I want you to stay because you understand,” he said. Quiet. Deadly. “Not because a piece of paper tells you to.”

He stood. Nodded to Susan. “Get her food. Something bland. Levinson’s list.”

Susan fled.

Adrian looked at Marcos. “No one goes near her room tonight. Not even cleaning staff. I’ll take first watch.”

First watch. Like I was a prisoner of war.

He was sleeping outside my door.

“Adrian,” I said. My voice broke. “Please. My mom—”

“Is safe,” he cut in. “My men are outside her house in Florida. 24/7. Valeria’s fans don’t get to her.”

He’d put guards on my mom. Without asking.

“Did you tell her?” I whispered. “That I’m here? That I’m—”

“No.” He said it simple. Final. “Because if she calls you crying, your blood pressure spikes. And I won’t have that.”

He was managing my emotions like stocks. Cutting losses.

He left.

_Beep_. Lock.

I stared at the ashes in the fireplace.

He burned the contract. But the cage was still there.